Delicate
by Moment For Life
Summary: Over the years following the Titanic sinking, we learn just how strong Rose Dawson really is. Written as snap-shots throughout the Dawson's life.
1. Delicate: Titanic to WW1

**Delicate**

 _''Everybody expects me to be this delicate little flower, which I'm not. I'm sturdy and as strong as a horse. You see these hands, they were made for work. I am here to do something, not just sit around and be decorative.''_

 _-Rose._

* * *

The sloped, cracked ceiling of the garret almost hit Jack as he stood up straight, quickly tilting his neck.

''Almost!''

''Yes, not quite the bump I had yesterday.''

Rose wiped her dirty hands down her thin, plain black dress. Her auburn curls fell into her face and she tucked away a curl and then another as it fell into her eyes, narrowed as they inspected the canvas before her.

''I'm sure each night this ceiling sneaks down to the floor, just a little bit more.''

When her face broke into an amused smile, Jack couldn't help but feel his stomach pull. _That sound._ His left hand snaked up around her waist, pulling at her until she weakened and fell against him. Her giggle turned into girlish screams.

''Jack, no! The paints all over my hands.''

It was too late, a bright yellow paint already smudged across his own hands, chin and his open shirt.

''We'll just have to get our clothes off and get in the tub, huh?'' He smiled, suggestively and his hair fell into his eyes in that same boyish way it always had.

''Is that right?''

Without even warning, he crushed his mouth onto hers. Immediately, she melted against him. Pale yellow smears crossed his shirt as she tore at it as she ragged it from his shoulders. His lips came to her neck, trailing kisses down causing every nerve ending to stand up. Her breathing became ragged and she felt the sudden urge to giggle again.

''What could possibly be funny?'' He whispered slowly in her ear, she pulled away from him, her hands still on his parted shirt, running across his bare chest.

''This.'' She ran a hand up his chest, up to his neck, trailing splatters of paint. ''With all this paint, we're almost part of the walls and the furnishings.''

''Well, let's clean up in that tub, you always told me you never wanted to be a decorative piece.''

His head came to her again, bowing down so that his lips touched her nose, rubbing it against his own and then he pressed his lips to hers again. She closed her eyes, feeling his hands move down her dress to the back and to her waist. He clasped her either side of her waist and lightly pulled at the seams of the dress, it teared open with one gushing rip sound and her bare back was exposed, her hair tickling at it as his hands worked up to her shoulders and he pulled the material down from her shoulders and she shuffled out of the garment, from her waist it simply dropped to the floor in a pool.

''Mr. Dawson! I only purchased that dress last week.''

Jack removed his own shirt, his eyes not leaving hers. She saw the flames of passion in them and suddenly his lips were on hers again.

''With the money we get from this painting, I will buy you three more.'' He whispered in between kisses down her cheek. ''But, they may also be ripped by this time next week.''

His words were so full of mischief and yet, she couldn't help but remain serious. That was the thing she loved about him; just how he made her feel. The passion he had for her, their life and everything which they had created together. Her hands were in his hair, on his chest, across his face and neither cared just how sticky the paint had become. It would wash away and then, they could start again. That was the best thing, they could always create more art together.

The garret was small, cramped and with every step closer to the pile of blankets which they called their bed, the wooden floor boards squeaked and threatened to break so that they fell into the apartment beneath. He pushed her down onto the pile of blankets and pulled at her stockings before discarding of them on the floor. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and he wiped them away, feeling just how stuffy the air had become.

He went to the creaky window, pushed at the handle with such force that it cracked open with a pop, allowing in the warm spring air. Returning to Rose, he lay himself near her, burying his face in her hair, kissing her neck and upwards to her face.

''Jack-'' She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled at it gently. ''We were supposed to finish that painting this morning.''

She heard him laugh.

''We have time later.''

''What if I want to do this again?''

He propped himself up his elbows, seeing the fire in her own eyes. The fire which he had fallen in love with. His eyes couldn't leave hers at all. Her innocence and spirit made him only fall for her more.

''We both know that once is never enough.''

There, hidden away in a partially yellow paint splattered garret in the middle of New York City, Jack loved his Rose.

* * *

''That is quite a piece.'' Rose folded her arms across her chest. Her new cream day dress brushed along grass as she stepped back to admire it once more. There, sat on a portrait stand, Rose admired Jack's work. It was his finest yet. He stepped down from the stool and wiped a bead of sweat away from his face with a folded handkerchief.

''You think?'' He squinted in the late morning sun, joining Rose to look at the work he had just created.

''Yes!''

A greying fifty something man handed Jack a couple of coins from his suit jacket pocket. ''It just wonderful! All I could ask for.'' His beagle came to his owner's feet, loyal as he sniffed at the ground before squatting to sit.

''Are you sure?''

''Young man, this kind of work is what I would pay good money for. Where did you study?''

Jack wiped his hands down his trousers once more. The dusty charcoal seemed to stick to his clammy hands. Both nerves and excitement had pattered about in his stomach. Whilst paper was still good to work with, he had collected little money together and started to paint also, the odd landscape but before him, he had done a hand drawing of the man before him, with his trusted dog upon his knee on a canvas. Not a large one, just big enough to be almost life size. Jack saw the flaws in the drawing; he always did. The dogs paws could be a little better, he pondered.

''I didn't study at all.''

''Ridiculous!'' The man scoffed. ''A God given talent, boy?''

''I guess you could say that.'' He replied, modestly, even though faith wasn't something which he had much of these days. The inspiration did simply come at his fingertips.

''Jack, you are wonderful!'' Rose came to his side, pressing her hand against his lower back and shaking her copper curls which were illuminous beneath the lovely sun.

He smiled, almost shyly. In his hands, he shook the coins as he played with them. ''Thanks.''

''Well, thank you. Have a wonderful day.''

Jack carefully removed the picture from the stand and handed it to the man. ''I appreciate it.'' Jack nodded as a goodbye.

Rose swished her skirts about on the floor, careful to not dirty the bottom of her dress but it looked to be too late.

''Third happy customer,'' she beamed, happily, ''the sun must bring them out this way.''

Jack rattled the coins in his hands, he opened up his palm to count them. ''I think so, too.''

He counted the silver half dollars which he had been given. 1...2...3...''Ten!''

''What?''

''Five dollars!''

''What? A whole five dollars?''

Jack handed the coins to Rose, and she counted them aloud in her palms. There was five dollars...ten silver pieces. ''Jack! This is the most you have made!''

His eyes darted about the park, the man carried the portrait off to its new home, with the beagle barking and playing about his feet. ''What if he made a mistake?''

''He didn't.'' Rose placed her hands on Jack's shoulders. ''Please, have more faith in yourself and in your work. You have a talent.''

He exhaled slowly. Just what would his father have to say about that? He pictured the proud as punch look upon his face. His parents would have danced about happily, clapping and singing old songs from their childhood.

''Oh, Rose.''

He placed his hands upon her waist and pulled her closer to him, their bodies pressed together in a warm embrace.

''Let's go get some beers.''

* * *

Rose's foot pressed against the level beneath the mechanical pottery wheel. She kept pressing, pressing and it spun whilst she shaped a pot atop the wheel. She paid particular attention to the lip, ensuring the shape was just right. Round and round it went, shaping and moulding until she finally felt it was just right and then...

 **Bang.**

She jumped. ''Shit!'' She cursed. The lip had gone wonky again. ''Jack?!''

From the door, Jack emerged, pulling out several new pots of paint which he had purchased that morning.

''Yes, darling.'' His eyes fell on Rose. Her apron was completely covered in clay, her hair was falling into the wetness and her chin and hands were grey. He laughed, shaking his head. She had been working on that damn thing all morning.

''You scared me, now it's gone again.'' She sighed, frustrated.

''My fault, huh?''

She met his gaze and her frustration melted as soon as she caught sight of his cocky grin.

''Yes, it is.''

''I'm sure I can make it up to you.''

He stepped closer, the floor boards creaking beneath his thick boots.

''Don't come near me.'' She held up a clay covered hand.

''Why not?''

''Because I will lose it. I have already.''

His hands came around her waist, around to her middle. She shivered, almost feeling his effect on her. He moved a couple of strands of her hair to one side before gently blowing on the back of her neck. Her foot stopped turned the wheel.

''You're distracting me!''

''I've heard that before.'' He smirked, kissing her cheek.

Rose removed her hands from the clay pot which she had shaped and turned in his arms. ''That's because, it is true.'' Her sticky hands touched his outer jacket, pulling it down his shoulders.

''Hey!'' He flinched, seeing how grey his black coat was, littered with Rose's hand print.

''You painted my dress, remember?''

''Oh, that's the game, is it?'' He raised his eyebrows, leaning in to kiss her. Her hand came up to stop him and he flinched back.

''You owe me two vases.''

Through his grin, he kissed her. ''Deal.''

* * *

''The squid boat?'' Rose squinted in the early evening sun. A small straw hat shielded her face.

''Sure, his name is Randy. He moved here from Monterey just last year.'' Jack's freckles were highlighted in the sun and Rose couldn't help but notice how handsome he truly was.

''He gave you a job?''

''Course!''

Rose clamped her arms around Jack's neck, causing them both to fall backwards into the sand. Just feet away, the Pacific Ocean lapped up onto the beach, causing a swishing noise. Rose's hat tumbled from her head, freeing her curls around her shoulders. Jack brushed them away lightly, pressing his lips to her forehead as she scrambled so that she was straddling him. She allowed her fingers to run through the sand, the roughness of it was something which she had never felt before. Just off in the far horizon, the sky met the sea and soon it would set, disappear and it would be morning elsewhere.

"He was more shocked by the fact that I was married." Jack crinkled his nose. "He said to me, "Jack Dawson, a married man! I have to meet the woman who took his heart just to believe he isn't full of shit!" So I told him I would bring you by."

Rose joined her arms around his neck, joining them and resting her face on his shoulder. "Oh, Jack!" She breathed in his ear. "We really are married!" She stretched out her left hand and saw the thin gold band which sat on her finger. Down in her stomach, she felt it clench.

* * *

''Darling, please sit down, just for a little while.''

Rose pressed on, through the heavy pulling in her back, stomach and hips.

''No, I have to get this just right.''

''But, that is what I am here for.'' He sighed, watching as his heavily pregnant wife painted the cracked walls of their new home. ''I can do all of the work, here, please sit.''

''No!'' She pushed his hand away forcefully and placed a tender hand across her swollen stomach. She had felt the pulling and tightening for days and it was only a matter of time. The bedroom had to be done and dry for when their child arrived. As best she could, she grasped a small wooden stool, she placed it before her and lifted the bottom of her skirts revealing bare feet. She put one foot on the rickety thing before Jack grasped both of her hands and gently pulled her back.

''Oh, no, Mrs. Dawson! I don't think so!''

''Jack! Let me paint!'' She batted his hand away but he restrained her with a forceful but gentle grip and led her backwards towards an armchair. As soon as the weight was taken from her feet, she felt the ease straight away. Jack counted the seconds that she sat down...1...2...3...4...

''Right, I am all right now, where is that brush?'' She struggled to her feet, pressing both hands to her stomach, it tightened again.

Jack exhaled, frustrated. In that moment, he knew just how much he loved his wife for all that she was; stubborn, feisty and always in the right! But, he wouldn't back down on this one. He needed her to rest as he knew that she would be delivering their child soon, and he needed them both healthy. He placed his hand to her face, brushing across her lips and up to her sticky hair.

''Rose, listen to me, please.'' His eyes softened. ''I know how determined you are and that you are as strong as a horse but please, just rest. Think of our baby.''

''I am, Jack. That is why I want this finished!'' She wiped her face as she glanced about and then down to her feet. They poked out just beneath her skirt. For weeks she hadn't seen her own toes but then, her stomach had dropped very low and suddenly, her ankles had swollen and her toes, too. Hideous, yes. A hindrance, yes. Would it stop her from been on her feet most of the day? No. Jack sighed, once more.

''All right, then, for one hour, please would you sit. I will paint. If I finish this room within the hour then you must sit for the rest of the pregnancy.''

Rose opened her mouth to speak but her stomach tightened, pulling downward towards her hips, this time it was longer and tighter than usual. She clasped her stomach. It wasn't painful, yet. She told herself, more of just a wave.

''Are you all right?'' Jack's eyes flashed with concern.

''Yes,'' she nodded, as the tightening eased, ''just a little tighter.''

Jack placed his hand upon her stomach and it was met by a frustrated kick. A limb wriggled about within its mother's womb, one side and then the other. Rose winced, settling herself back into the chair.

''Oh, what long legs you must have.'' She smiled, placing her hands atop of Jack's. ''Daddy is the one to blame for that.''

Jack's lopsided smile faded into something different, it was serious and yet, with traces of nerves. ''We're going to have a baby.'' He whispered, ''I will be a father.''

It may have taken nine long months, but right there in that moment whilst he was on his knees, by his wife's swollen feet in their half-decorated Santa Monica home, Jack Dawson realised just how much their lives would change.

* * *

''Woo, woo!''

The train spewed out steam and then it came again, loudly. A whistle and choo choo.

''Woo, woo!''

Rose took her two-year-old son by the hand. ''Daddy, train!''

''Yes, darling. Daddy is going on that train.''

His luggage had been loaded. Her son pulled at her hand. ''Mommy, woo, woo!''

''Yes, Teddy.''

Her son's excitement was the only thing which was keeping Rose Dawson together. For today, her husband was going to War. Of course, it had been raging in Europe for some time but after US Congress had announced they would be joining also, Rose had feared for their safety, mostly Jack's and then, the dreaded letter had arrived.

He was going overseas.

To Europe.

To the front line.

In his uniform, she couldn't help but admire just how handsome he was. The same boy she had fallen in love with five years before he become a father, and now a man. He stood before her, those beautiful blue eyes that she had come to know so well, those same eyes she saw when she looked at their son, they were lined with unshed tears.

''No!'' She told him, firmly. ''We mustn't cry or be upset. We have to stay strong.''

''I am sorry.'' He sighed, breathing through the pain in his stomach and the lump in his throat. By his side, his son stood, more excited about seeing a train proper for the first time. He bent down to his son's level.

''Isn't it brilliant?''

His son's eyes didn't stop watching the steam, the people and taking in just how magnificent and new it was.

''Yes! Woo!''

''That's right, Teddy. The train does make that sound.'' He stroked his son's fair hair, cupping his small face in his hands and remembering every single inch of it. He had pictures in his pack of both his wife and their child, but he couldn't begin to think of when he would next be seeing their face with his own eyes, holding them in his arms...he blinked back more tears.

As he stood, he shook his head.

''I can't believe I have to go.''

Rose glanced about at the other families around them; fathers, mothers, siblings and even grandparents. Tears flowed, cries erupted and then there was her; fighting them back so hard but she knew in her stomach that she couldn't let Teddy see how heart-breaking this was. She just couldn't break down. She had to keep going. For them both.

''You will be home soon.'' She cheerily told him, believing it herself almost. ''Didn't they say Christmas?''

Jack heard the convincing tone of her voice, but it didn't wash with him.

''Rose-''

''No, it's all right, Jack. We can write. We can telephone when we can.''

His hands came to her face, her hair and then he kissed her, with as much passion and love he could in that last kiss. He wanted to become lost in her, to cherish her and remember that the kiss would be the last time he would be close to her in an unknown length of time. In the back of his mind, he knew that he may not even return.

''I'll write as soon as I can.'' He whispered against her lips. ''I love you, so much. Remember that.''

Teddy nestled in between their knees. ''Come here, little man.''

Teddy held up his arms to his father and Jack cradled him to his body, just as he had done when he was a new born. He didn't care just how crinkled his uniform got. His son was his world. From the day he had been born and placed upon his bare chest, he had felt the strong instinct to protect and love him. Teddy grasped Jack strongly around his neck, burying his face into his shoulders.

''I love you, Teddy. When you see that sky at night, remember those stars?''

He felt Teddy nod.

''Well, when you see those stars, just know I am not too far away. I will see them, too.''

Teddy nodded. ''Stars.'' He repeated, pointing to the sky.

''Yes! Well done.''

He held out his arms to Rose, and she fell against her husband and son; her family. Inside, she was breaking apart but the tears stayed at bay until late that evening when she cried, just a little after sending her husband to war.

* * *

 _December 9_ _th_ _1917,_

 _My dearest Jack,_

 _I am beyond happy to announce that we have another son, he was born late last Friday night, as Teddy slept. I delivered well, not too much pain and the doctor tells me our son is as strong as an ox. 7lb and 4 ounces. He looks just like Teddy did, just as beautiful. I named him Samuel, just as we discussed. He doesn't cry much and is happy to lay in his brother's arms whilst I read to them both. Two days after he was born, I cried for the second time since you left, for my darling, you should be here with us, your family._

 _Christmas will be lonely without you. But I have already planned a dinner for me and Teddy. The presents were wrapped just before I delivered and the tree will be more beautiful than last year. This will be the first Christmas which Teddy will remember and I want that to be special._

 _I will pray for you and think of you each day just as I always do, my love. My dreams are filled with the life we have left to live when you return. I have taken to your side of the bed again, especially when I am awake to nurse Samuel, I remember just how you would sit with me when Teddy was born, watching him nurse, playing with my hair and tell me just how much you loved me. I still hear those words._

 _Just know that we love you so much, my darling. Teddy talks about you all of the time. He asks about the stars and we watch them every night._

 _Come home, soon._

 _All of our love,_

 _Rose, Teddy and Samuel._

 **I have written more covering most of their lives together. I didn't want to do a huge continuing story about their lives after Titanic so though snapshots where you can see it went along would be easier. I loved thinking this whole story up so let me know what you think.**

 **Thank you :)**


	2. Delicate: WW1 to WW2

_''There's something in me, Jack. Like a dynamo. I don't know what it is, if I should become an artist or a sculptor or a dancer, just like Isadora Duncan, a wild Pagan spirit, or...a moving picture actress!''_

 _-Rose_

* * *

''It's the best show of 1922, or so the papers say.''

''Well, they said that about the last one of 1921.''

''And that was true! If it wasn't they wouldn't have wanted you to do that picture now, would they?''

Jack touched Rose's silky shoulder length platinum blonde hair. A cloud of smoke surrounded her, and Jack took the cigarette from her and took a long drag.

''Well, maybe once the next picture is shot. We could take a vacation, someplace. Away from California.''

Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. ''Wow, we haven't had a vacation in ten years.''

Rose playfully hit her husband's arm and he pulled her into a standing position. She took the cigarette from between his lips and placed it between her own, taking a long drag before exhaling right in his face.

''Well, that's because we spent three years travelling,'' she kissed him just once, right on the lips, ''then we made two babies,'' she kissed him again, this time he smirked, ''then came the war and then once you were back, well, we made up for some of the lost time.'' Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

''Then, Hollywood came knocking, for my wife.''

Rose took another long drag. ''You encouraged my acting, darling.''

''Yes, because a redhead, many moons ago told me that she wanted to become a moving picture actress. I did marry her but then, she woke up blonde.''

Rose stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray upon the table in their kitchen. ''Yes, and my husband told me he enjoyed the blonde.''

''I do, I love you whatever the hair colour.''

His hands came around her slender waist and he tilted his head to the right, watching how her lips curved into a smile. They began to sway a little and after a minute, they realised they were dancing, to no music. Her blonde curls fell into her face, in that moment, she stole his breathe away, just as she had ten years before but now, it was much more intense.

''You know I do believe I am dancing with the most beautiful actress there is. The most in-demand actress in Hollywood.''

Rose snaked her arms up around his neck and rested her face next to his, she felt the stubble of his couple of days' worth of growth.

''No, Jack. I am none of those things, just your wife.''

* * *

''Teddy, come here. You know you burn in the sun, darling.'' Rose shouted after her eight-year-old son. His brother, Sam, aged five followed his brother closely behind. Together, they were like two peas in a pod. They could pass for twins, except for the couple of inches height difference.

''Coming, Mom. I want to play in the water.''

''Have a little rest, just for a minute.''

Teddy dragged his feet up the sand to the blanket where his Mother was sat in her striking blue bathing suit beneath a huge straw hat and dark sunglasses. A large parasol covered them and Samuel ran passed his Mother to see their father carrying two ice creams from the cart.

''Oh, daddy! Is that for me?'' Samuel cried, his blonde hair flapping as he ran towards Jack.

''Yes, but only if you do as your Mother said. Both of you, sit down and take a rest.''

Samuel ran back to the blanket and sat beside his brother. Two pair of blue eyes eagerly awaited the ice cream cones to be in their hands. Within seconds, their tongues licked at the already melting ice cream.

''Thank you, daddy.'' They chorused and suddenly, all was quiet as their boys ate happily.

Jack sat beside Rose, taking her hand in his he kissed it.

''You know I do believe all eyes are on you, my darling.''

''Oh, Jack. It's just a bit of leg.'' She swatted away her hair and avoided gaze without any fuss of the other beachgoers. ''Besides, I have seen four other women in such attire and no one pays attention to those.''

Jack smiled, moving his own hair from his eyes. ''No, darling. I think it is because you are the loveliest woman here.''

Rose removed her shades, to reveal the amusement in her eyes. She leant closer to Jack, her words tickling his ear. ''Well, this will be the last time I can wear a bathing suit, perhaps ever again in my life.''

''Nonsense.''

''I am almost thirty years old, and I have borne two children.''

''And still look seventeen and have kept your trim waist.''

Jack glanced at their children, sat watching other children play with a volleyball behind them. They were good kids; athletic, kind and caring. They had been raised with love and nurture. Rose leant back against Jack. It was warm, but she still loved to feel him hold her. His bare arm tickled at her shoulder.

''For now.'' Her eyes were sparkling with underlying mischief. Jack's furrowed brow silently asked her a question. She leant in closely to him, whispering into his left ear. ''I'm expecting again.''

If he wasn't lost for words before, he was now. As she pulled away, he saw the face splitting grin across her face and he pulled her to him so tightly that she felt in that moment just how much he did love her.

''Oh, Rose.'' He kissed her hair. ''How far?''

''Not so long, couple of months. I wasn't so sure but now I know for definite. In around seven to eight months, we will have another child.''

She fiddled with the strap of her bathing suit. It wasn't tight but soon it would be, she would increase once more and with it she would give birth to new life; a sibling to join their two sons.

* * *

 _''Pittsburgh Steel Tycoon Caledon Nathan Hockley, son of the late Nathan Hockley of Philadelphia was found dead yesterday. The cause of death was heard as suicide. He was found in the study of his mansion by his wife Mary, the pair have three sons together; Larry 13, Alfred 11 and Caledon Junior aged just nine. A pistol was found with his body and was listed as the cause of death. This comes just three weeks after the fall of Wall Street._

 _His family were too distraught to comment. Mr Hockley was also a survivor of the Titanic disaster back in 1912, in which he lost his fiancée Rose Dewitt Bukater who was then just seventeen. Some say he never recovered from her death.''_

Jack read aloud to Rose. He never thought they would mention Rose with the Titanic disaster again – or that he would be reading such a piece in the paper. They did usually avoid such tripe but this headline caught his attention. Caledon Hockley had shot himself in the mouth.

''Oh, God.'' Rose placed her hand to her mouth. ''Such a spineless man, to the very end. But- those poor children.'' She thought of her own children. Thirteen, ten and five. They were too young to lose a parent.

''Like, you said. A weak man.'' Jack folded the newspaper in half and took a sip of his morning coffee. He played with the end of his moustache. ''I have to be at work in forty minutes. I have a meeting with an artist today.''

Rose's depressive mood soon lifted. ''Oh, that's wonderful. We do need more talent. It's so much about photographs these days, it's almost as though people don't wish to enjoy paintings as much.''

''It's modern America, darling.''

''Hmm,'' she agreed from behind her coffee cup, ''I do miss those simple times. When we painted that garret, do you remember?''

A playful smile came to Jack's lips. ''Of course. How could I forget how cramped it was?''

''Or how we had nothing to do but create art and make love.''

Jack shook his head at his unashamed wife. ''We do the same now, darling. Except we have three children, a dog and an art gallery.''

As if on cue, Beth, the family white Labrador howled as she limped into the kitchen. Her tummy wriggled and she whimpered once more. ''Oh, sweetheart, you are just about ready to pop, aren't you?'' Rose hitched her dress to her knees and slipped onto the floor beside her treasured pet. ''Teddy, Sam and Lilly are just waiting with baited breath for those puppies to come.''

''Another day or so.'' Jack nodded, seeing how swollen Beth's tummy was. ''As a kid we had plenty of dogs, cattle, horses. Delivering their offspring was my first job.''

Rose laughed, she hadn't heard the snippet of his life before. ''I can imagine your parents must have been thrilled.''

''Yes, they were.'' He paused for a moment. He hadn't thought of his parents in so long. Perhaps once or twice in the five years since his daughter had come along. He had been fifteen when they passed and now it was over twenty years, it felt as though their existence was just a distant memory.

Beth howled again and Rose ran her hand along the swollen tummy. ''I know your pain, beautiful girl. I know how uncomfortable it gets at the end, but, I suppose you are carrying a litter so you will have ten pairs of feet kicking away at you!''

As Jack predicted, two days later. Four tiny puppies were born.

* * *

 _Here lies Harry Dawson_

 _2_ _nd_ _July 1870 – 10_ _th_ _November 1907_

 _Also, his wife, Lillian Dawson_

 _27_ _th_ _April 1973 – 10_ _th_ _November 1907_

 _May they rest in eternal peace, together._

Next to his parent's grave, fresh soil and flowers were piled atop a small rectangle. His wife clasped his hand, her black dress came to her knees, tight and thick, despite the warm day.

''Rest with the angels, my boy.'' Jack whispered, clutching Rose's hand tighter. She returned his grasp, leaning against him for support. She had tried to not cry but the pain in her stomach had been too much to bear. Soon, uncontrollable, hot tears streamed down her face and she didn't even try to stop them. Her baby boy was gone. Twelve days old.

She had carried like the others, wonderfully and healthy. Their return to Jack's hometown of Chippewa Falls eighteen months previous and Rose had discovered her pregnancy not long after. Their new home was cosy, peaceful and for the first time of all her pregnancies, Rose had relaxed and allowed the children and her husband to dote upon her. Their eldest son turned sixteen just two weeks before their new son had arrived. He had been the image of the older two boys, with a good weight and they had named him Harry, after Jack's father but less than a fortnight later, the angels had come to take him away, leaving a space in their lives, a deep grief and a dark cloud over their lives.

''We have to bury him with your parents, Jack. He cannot be alone.'' Rose had told him and so, that morning, they had buried their dear boy. For a parent to outlive a child, it was beyond believable but to lay their new-born to rest had been the most excruciating pain any person could feel.

''Take care of him, Pops.'' Jack whispered to the ground, as though it had ears to hear him. ''Take him flying, make him laugh and love him just like we would do down here on this mortal plane.''

His words pierced Rose's heart and she fell against him for support. For nine months she had carried the child within her body, felt his movements, his life. She had cried in pain for twenty-seven long hours and once he had come into the world his cries had been by far the loudest of her four children. He had slept upon her chest, his steady breathing and those twitching eyes. She had cradled him, loved him and become his Mother. Harry Dawson. Their wonderful, beautiful boy...gone.

It was a loss she would feel for the rest of her life.

* * *

''Did you know that alcohol is legal in England **and** it's only an eighteen-age limit!'' Teddy smoked his cigarette as he pushed his dark blonde hair from his eyes. Rose had to do a double take, each time his mannerisms mirrored his fathers at that age.

Rose wafted the smoke away. ''Yes, I do, Teddy, but you are not going to England just to have a drink!'' Rose shook her head at her teenage son. ''And don't smoke when Eadie is around. Put it out!''

Teddy quickly exhaled the last of his hand rolled cigarette and squashed it in the ashtray. ''Sorry Ma, she's still so new and quiet I forget she is here.'' He thrust his hands into his pocket as he craned his neck over his sister's crib. She was asleep, just as she had been all morning. ''You know, they sure are boring this young.''

Rose poured herself her third cup of tea at the dining table of their home. ''Not boring, darling. They are simply too young to do much. When you were this age, you were the same.'' Rose could barely remember her son been that fragile and yet, it only seemed like yesterday and yet when he towered over her petite frame he made her feel older than she was.

''Well, she will be great fun for Lilly. Poor girl hasn't another girl to play with in the family.''

''Yes, but ten years is an awfully large gap between them, Teddy. Lilly will be just as tall as you and Samuel soon enough.''

''Samuel is taller than daddy now!'' Teddy scoffed. ''Just when will he stop growing?''

''When his body tells him to. I am sure your father is taller now than when we met twenty-one years ago.''

Teddy laughed, the same laugh as his father. Rose's heart swelled with such love that she stood from the chair, forgetting her tea and came to her eldest son.

''You know, you will always be my little boy, Teddy.''

He swatted his Mother's hands from his face as she placed them on his cheeks, coming closer to kiss his cheek. ''Oh, Mother, get away from me! You have Lilly and Eadie to kiss all over. I'm eighteen years old!''

''Yes – and still, I will refuse you a passage aboard a damned ship with your friends to go to England just so you can get drunk in England.'' She scolded.

''It's not like that Ma, I want to study over there, too. The universities are great.'' Rose's lips parted into an 'o' and she sighed.

''Oh dear, boy. I forgot just how old you are. You will have to speak to your father about that.''

* * *

Jack had feared America would become involved with the war like they had in the first world war. He feared his family would be affected; his sons.

After Japan attacked Pearl Harbour on December the 7th 1941, America joined the war and Jack's fears became a reality; both of his sons were conscripted. Teddy was twenty-seven and Samuel was twenty-four.

They left on January the 22nd 1942, leaving their devastated family behind in the USA. Teddy did everything he could to avoid the war but he knew he would have to leave if not he could end up in prison.

''Ironic, isn't it.'' Rose furiously knitted, her hands moving so fast that Jack couldn't even register her handiwork. ''How twenty-four years ago, I was giving birth to Samuel by myself whilst the war had taken you away from me and Teddy. Now, Cecilia, is alone too about to give birth to her child without Samuel, without her family.''

Jack ran his fingers through his greying hair, smoothing it out. The wireless played in the background but it wasn't heard by any of them.

''We will be there for her. As much as we can. I know we aren't her family, but we already love her like a daughter. They did plan to marry.''

''Yes, the reason for the damned shame her family feel. The poor girl fell in love with our son, they planned to marry but the war took him away. He wants to be here, with his girl and their child. What difference does it matter if she was married to our son or not? A piece of paper doesn't mean you love the other. A child needs love.'' She threw her knitting to one side, the anger building up in her stomach was a distraction. She watched as her handsome husband glanced up from his book. He had read the same lines over and over since Samuel and Teddy had left. His stomach couldn't settle and nothing could stop his heart from sinking when he thought of their children fighting in that damned war. When he met his wife's gaze, he softened.

''Do you remember, darling. To be that young and in love.''

''Yes, absolutely.'' Even at forty-seven years old, Rose didn't feel a day older than her eldest son. Her hair was still the radiant copper it was as a young girl, her eyes, although lined with wisdom were still as alive as ever. ''Perhaps our children keep us young.''

''Six children,'' Jack chuckled, ''that was idea of Hell as a young man and then our Teddy was born.''

''Then Sam, Lilly and Harry, God rest his soul. But I think it is Eadie and Helen who keep us so active.''

''What fifty-year-old man do you know who chases his three-year-old daughter, huh? Hell, I am about to become a grandfather.''

Rose bit back a smile. ''Yes, Helen was quite a surprise, wasn't she?''

Jack fully closed his book and placed it on the end table where a gas lamp burned. ''A reminder that just because of one's age, it doesn't stop a man still loving his wife.''

''Jack, I would never doubt that. You have given me more in these last thirty years than a woman could ever wish for. Our children, our lives and our love, it's been wonderful.''

''Then, stop talk like it's about to end then and come and kiss your old husband.''

* * *

Cecilia Fox cradled her son tightly to her chest. He wailed, loudly as though, as just two months old, he knew what day it was. Her deep, dark eyes ran over the fresh soul below her heeled feet.

 _Samuel David Dawson_

 _December 1_ _st_ _1917 – March 9th 1942._

 _A beloved son, brother and father._

Beside her, stood her loves family; his sisters Lilly and Eadie, both cried together, their large blue eyes and matching copper hair were pressed together. Lilly's a darker copper and straighter than her younger sister but still, alike. Helen was three, in her father's arms, she cried, purely because she had no understanding of why the others cried, and that frightened her. A small bonny black hat stopped her blonde curls from spilling from beneath it and she rested her small face upon her father's shoulder, settling there for comfort.

Teddy stood, a foot or so taller than his Mother with his hand upon her shoulder. His chin lowered to the floor.

''It should have been me, Ma.'' His voice cracked. He had arrived home with three days leave for the funeral before he would go back to the cruel war himself. ''I have nothing here, Sam had Cecilia and a baby to love.''

Rose eyes her eldest son through sharp, raw eyes. ''Don't be so stupid, Ted! You have everything to live for!'' She could have cursed his stupid words in that moment but she lost the energy to. Teddy pulled her sob wracked body into his own and together they cried, for their Samuel.

Together, as a family they would have to find the strength to go on. Just like they always did.


	3. Delicate: WW2 to Present

_Can you exchange one life for another? A caterpiller turns into a butterfly. If a mindless insect can do it, why couldn't I?_

 _-Rose_

* * *

''When your father and I married, I was eighteen years old. I had known him for less than a year.'' Rose told her daughter, her soft smile showed as she recalled her own wedding day. When she saw the pretty girl stood before her, she could barely believe that she was a mother – even after all of these years. Just where did time go? It didn't stop for nobody, not even for a fraction of time, just so one could enjoy a moment, a kiss, a cuddle with their precious children. For now, all of her children were growing so fast.

''Oh, Mother. I do wish you had a picture of you and daddy on that day.''

''Lilly, pictures weren't taken as often back then and we had very little money.'' Rose smoothed her hands down Lilly's pure white dress. It was silky, flared out at the waist and the long sleeves were decorated with tiny beads. ''We did a good job with this dress.'' Rose pulled a small pair of spectacles onto her face and her blurred vision cleared. ''It is just beautiful.''

''Eadie is the one who designed it from scratch, remember?'' Lilly shook her light copper curls. ''That girl has something. Just like Teddy and daddy when they draw, like Helen when she dances.'' Her lips curved over into a look just like her fathers. ''I don't have a talent.''

''Oh, nonsense.'' Rose arranged a curl or two down her daughters back. ''When I met your father, I thought I thought the same thing. He was a talented, handsome young man who was wonderfully creative but I wasn't really anything.'' Rose stood back as she placed her hands on her hips to scan over her daughter's figure, the dress and how it hung. Her young face showed just how nervous she was. ''We started painting, sculpting, drawing...together. I wasn't half as good as your father but he made me feel confident, Lilly. I had an outlet for my creativity, but then I had Teddy and Samuel, and my life became my children's.''

Lilly saw the tears shining in her mother's eyes at the mention of Samuel. ''He should be here.'' She said, simply.

Rose blinked away her tears and breathed through the lump in her throat. ''He is, darling. He always will be. Harry, too. They watch us, never forget that.''

Rose came to Lilly's side, she took her hands in her own. They were just a small, daintier version of her own. As she looked into those dark, deep blue eyes she saw herself twenty or so years ago, with flashes of Jack. ''I won't.''

''Oh, let me go get your father before I sob into your dress.'' Lilly giggled. Rose took a small but pretty veil from the bed and gently placed it on Lilly's head. She arranged her hair around it to cover the small clip before standing back to see her eldest daughter at full length.

''You are just simply beautiful.''

''Can a man see his daughter yet?'' Jack called from outside of Lilly's bedroom door, his knock was loud. Rose and Lilly broke into laughter.

''I told you just how desperate your father was.''

Rose went to the door, her lilac heels clacking upon the floor. Jack was dressed in his finest navy suit. Rose's hands went to his tie to straighten it out and then ran across his shoulders. ''My, my you scrub up as handsome as I remembered, Mr. Dawson.''

Jack's eyes sparkled with mischief. ''You're as radiant as the day I married you.'' He leant forward, kissing the tip of his wife's nose.

''Hardly, Jack.''

His eyes pierced hers as he took her hands in his and kissed her left hand just above her wedding ring. The same ring which she had worn all of these years. ''Rose, never question my love or my affection for you.''

He stole away her breath right there in that moment. ''We may be grandparents twice over, but that doesn't limit anything between us, does it?''

Rose blushed a deep crimson and leant forward to kiss her husband's cheek. ''I love you, my darling. Now, go see our daughter and promise not to cry.''

* * *

''1955! It will be our year!'' Eadie raised a glass of champagne. Her black curls were permed into a lovely, neat bob. Her lips painted a crimson red.

''Oh, darling. You do say that every year!'' Jack chuckled.

Eadie drank the champagne down in one.

''Yes, daddy. But it isn't every year that Marilyn Monroe wears one on your designs is it? Next, I am thinking Elizabeth Taylor!''

''Is that why you dyed your hair that horrible coal colour? To model yourself on her?'' Helen laughed, shoving chocolate into her mouth like it was going out of style. Her blonde curls shook as her eyes met her mother's stern look.

''Actually, no. Bobby likes it.'' Eadie stole a glance at her engagement ring. They had become engaged just before Christmas and her heart fluttered just like all young girls did once.

Jack cracked open another beer, taking a sip as he glanced about the table. It had started out with two seats many years ago, for just him and his wife, and now there were no less than the entire family. Teddy with his wife Maddison and their two sons. Cecilia with her and Samuel's son, William. Even though Cecilia had remarried three years after her son's birth, she still gathered with the family on these occasions and truth be told, she felt like another daughter to them all. Lilly sat with her husband Todd and their daughter. Her hand pressed against her raised stomach for soon she would be expecting another child just before February and then there was Eadie; the party girl. She designed dresses for Hollywood elite and had just become engaged to Bobby, a casting agent and then there was the baby; Helen. She would turn sixteen in the coming months. Two empty seats also sat with a cracker in front of them and the plates laid out as though they would be expected. For Harry and for Samuel. Even though everyone around them chattered, laughed, drank and ate whilst the wireless played songs, Jack still thought of the two sons he had buried. Across the table, his eyes met his wife's. She was just as lovely as ever even though they would celebrate her sixtieth birthday in the coming months with a trip to Paris and London. It would be their first time flying and first vacation away from the children.

''Well, when will you marry him?'' Lilly asked. Her husband lit a cigarette right next to her and she wafted away the smoke. ''Todd, please go outside! The baby doesn't want that in its lungs!''

''Oh, stuff! It's such nonsense.'' He complained but knowing better than to argue with his pregnant wife he took his cigarette to the door, where he was joined by Teddy.

''I don't know. I may never marry.'' Eadie puffed on another cigarette. ''I may simply wonder, design wonderful dresses and never settle.''

''All girls have to get married and have babies, Eadie.'' Helen shook her head at her elder sister's stupidity. ''That is what us girls have to do.''

''Actually, no you don't.'' Rose glanced to Jack. ''You can do whatever you want to do. When I was your age, a woman's choices were very limited. Now, if a woman wants a career then it is a wonderful thing to do.''

''See.'' Eadie crinkled her nose at her sister. ''I cannot see myself simply wiping a kid's snotty nose for the rest of my life.''

''Eadie!'' Jack scolded with a sharp gaze.

''Sorry, daddy.''

His middle daughter was quite the modern woman in so many ways but she was still naïve to the world. Whether she chose to marry and raise a family was her own business but to criticise others for the decision wasn't an option in his house.

He glanced about at the grandchildren. Three grandsons, and a granddaughter. His own children were wonderful parents and that was all he could wish for them. While he loved his grandsons and their boisterous ways, he did have a soft spot for his only granddaughter Jean who had turned five. She was like her mother but with her father's dark curls and freckles. She quietly sat resting against her mother, Lilly, one hand pressed against her swollen stomach and she ran a finger gently down the middle of it, trying to cause the child to kick. He took another swig of beer, remembering when Rose carried their children and he would do the same gesture to entice them to kick.

''Who wants chocolate cake?'' Teddy shouted, curling his head around the door from the kitchen. The grandchildren all shouted, screaming and ran into the kitchen for a slice of their grandmother's cake.

''Me, daddy! Me, uncle Teddy!''

Rose sipped her champagne and shook her head, their childish excitement amusing her endlessly. ''Oh, Jack, how did we just cope with six children?''

''We had to, my darling. We just had to.''

* * *

''Pregnant? Oh, give me strength. She's still a kid herself.'' Jack ran his fingers through his grey hair.

''Jack, you are forgetting she is older than I was when I was expecting Teddy.''

''By one Godamned year! She is in school still! She wanted to study in Paris and now, she is having a child!''

Jack paced the living room of their Santa Monica home.

''Oh, stop being so stuck in the past! We were parents at her age!'' Rose reminded her husband as she settled her aching back in the chair. ''Helen is twenty-one years old! Yes, she will need to take time away from her studies but she will manage.''

''How? Without a father in the picture.''

Rose exhaled slowly. ''Jack, she just will. He is better off never knowing. He was some French restaurateur who used our daughter in such a way I never want to know. She may have fallen for him but the light in all of this is that she will have that baby. She told me so, herself. That bastard doesn't want his name dragging through the mud.'' Rose toyed with her knitting, wondering if to reveal the next information but she knew that she could never hide anything from her husband; they had been married for fifty years and he knew her more than she had ever known herself. ''He is married already with children.''

Jack widened his narrow eyes and clenched his teeth together. ''He what?''

''Jack, please calm down!'' Rose struggled out of the low armchair and came to her husband who stood beside the log fire. Her hands settled upon his face.

''Rose, she is our little girl-''

''I know.'' She soothed, stroking his hair. ''But, she is a woman now.''

''If I ever get my hands on that bastard, he will have his neck snapped like a-''

''Oh, I know that!'' Rose felt him relax. ''But for now, she is coming home to Santa Monica and we need to make a home for her and the baby.''

* * *

 **1966**

Six-year-old Elizabeth held onto her grandfather's hand tightly as they walked to the fields. Her loose blonde curls billowed behind her in the gentle summers breeze.

Her eyes watched as the flowers danced. All bright and pretty before her and just then, a butterfly flew past right under her nose. She stopped and gasped.

''Oh, Grandpop, look!'' She held out her dainty hand to catch the purple and green speckled butterfly.

''Yes, just look how beautiful.''

He knelt down to her height. He smiled, as her large blue eyes lit up with her hands held out in front of her for the butterfly to land on. It fluttered before them as though it was showing off.

''Can we catch it and keep it?''

''Oh no, Elizabeth. We cannot keep it but we can certainly catch it.''

Expertly, he pulled a small glass jar from his pocket. Jack was certainly used to catching butterflies and even after all of these years, their beauty never failed to astonish him but what made it even more exciting was seeing the face of his granddaughter. Her Mother, Helen had given birth to her at home right there with Jack and Rose in the room and it had been one of the most precious moments of his life.

''Why not?''

''Because they had to be free. Just as we people do.''

He took the lid off the jar which was full of nectar and held it out in his hand. Jack stood in front of Elizabeth. He stood as still as could be.

''You see butterflies like nectar.'' He whispered to her. ''Be still now.''

Elizabeth did as she was told. Within twenty seconds, the butterfly had flown into the jar and quickly Jack placed the lid on so that it was contained. The butterfly began to flutter around wildly.

''See how the butterfly gets trapped. She doesn't like it.''

Elizabeth watched as the butterfly tapped its wings frantically against the sides of the jar. ''Oh, grandpop but she is so pretty.''

''She is but she needs to be free. Could you imagine living in such a small jar?''

Elizabeth was quiet, too enthralled by the butterfly as it continued tapping its delicate wings against the glass.

Jack smiled as she held the glass jar. Her pretty freckles came out in the sun. She was tanned like her Mother and just like he had been, too.

''Can we show Granny?''

Jack sat on the grass, his back beginning to hurt from kneeling. Harriet tucked her hair behind her ear and sat beside him, still clutching the jar.

''Granny and I would come here before your mother was born. We caught butterflies, watched them fly by and we went fishing too.''

''Can we go fishing too?''

Jack smiled at her enthusiasm. ''Of course, but you will need a rod.''

''Did Mother come fishing?''

''Yes, when she was your age and older. We came here for picnics.''

Elizabeth glanced at her grandfather and then to the butterfly. ''We have to let her go?''

''Yes, darling.''

''If we can't take Granny a butterfly, can we pick her some pretty flowers?''

''Of course, she would love that.''

* * *

The cancer had come quickly, taken over and claimed his life so quickly that none of the family had barely registered it.

On April 12th 1970. Jack Dawson had passed away, in his wife's arms. Fifty-eight years to the day, after they had met. Rose had wanted to cry, to scream and to fight the disease which had claimed his life. But, in her heart, she knew just how selfish that would be. They had shared fifty-eight years together. He had given her a wonderful life, six wonderful children and in turn seven grandchildren. They had created, loved, cherished and travelled. Their lives had been enriched with such love that, in the end, Rose knew she shouldn't be angry. Life would go on, she wasn't delicate and she would keep on the way Jack wanted it. She would still take care of their children, their grandchildren and travel. Hell, she even had her eyes on a cruise to Brazil for her birthday. It was a day after his funeral that she had discovered a handwritten note in pencil. In that moment, as she saw the tall, long letters just as she had done as a seventeen-year-old girl, when a note had been thrust into her hands. It was upon closer inspection, when she put her glass on that she noticed the words. _Make it count, meet me at the clock._

Her heart pounded in her chest. The envelope was unsealed and with shaking hands she pulled out the letter. Tears were already forming in her eyes and this time, she refused to stop them falling. Settling herself upon Jack's side of the bed, she began to read:

 _My dearest, beautiful Rose,_

 _As I sit and write this to you, I can feel the cancer taking over my body. The doctors told me it could be days, months or even years but I know my own body and it won't be too much longer. I can only cherish the days I have left with you and my family. Every day with you has been a wonderful gift and my life has been enriched more than a small-town farm boy could ever wish for._

 _It started on a night, very much like this one, when a young and naïve girl was about to throw herself from the Titanic. I loved you from that second and from each one from then until now, it has only grown. It hasn't been easy, this life. We have loved and lost. We buried two children. But, that is part of life, I suppose._

 _We created art, painted, sculpted, danced, sang and laughed. We did everything we talked about, my darling and so much more._

 _The moment I part ways with you will be the most difficult thing which I will ever do but I can't sit here and cry, for I know that after this life, I will still see you. You will feel me. We will both go on, just on different paths. I have our children waiting for me and I will send them your love, but you are still needed here, my love, for so many more years. Take that trip to Brazil, go to the theatres, create more art as I know you have loved to do, perhaps more than me all of these years._

Rose chuckled through her hot, heavy tears, she could hear Jack's words as she read.

 _This life was just one for us to share. We have many more lifetimes left together, my sweet Rose and until I meet you again, just take care of the family and of our children._

 _There are no goodbyes, just a little farewell, for now._

 _I love you and I always will,_

 _Your husband,_

 _Jack_

 _P.S:- I will meet you at the clock._

Folding away the note, Rose clasped onto her stomach. The pain of Jack's passing had pent up until now and as she lay her aching body down upon their marital bed, she sobbed into the pillow which still held his scent, the blankets which had wrapped around his body like a cocoon and she held herself, clinging to the note left to her by her one true love.

* * *

''Are you sure we are sailing?'' Rose clattered about placing her pictures, neatly in a line across a dark oak chest of drawers.

''Yes, nana.'' Elizabeth unzipped a suitcase which had been placed upon the bed by a steward and opened it. There, nestled in the suitcase were another twenty or so photo frames. She narrowed her eyes at her grandmother who was still playing with a photograph of Jack and Lilly.

''How many pictures did you bring?''

Rose ignored her granddaughters horrified face and waved her arm in the air as if to dismiss it. ''I promised your grandfather that he would be with us with we travelled.''

Elizabeth placed her hands on her slender hips. ''He is, nana. Surely, we don't need all of these?''

Rose narrowed her aging eyes at her teenage granddaughter. ''Hey, missy.'' She playfully pointed her finger. ''Just remember who begged your mother to let you skip school for this trip!''

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, just as her grandfather used to do under such circumstances. His death had hit Lizzy hard, she had been just ten when he passed and since then, after Teddy's death especially, Rose had come to struggle a little more around the house and so Helen had suggested for Lizzy to move in part time in between school to help out. Secretly, Lizzy loved it. Her own Mother re-married but never had more children and without a father in her life, she had always cherished her grandfather.

''Yes, nana.'' She sighed. Even though she was sixteen and most girls her age were swooning over John Travolta and going out to the clubs, she would much rather be with her aging grandmother, aboard a cruise liner bound for Brazil. It had taken six years after Jack's death for her to plan the trip and a year after turning 80 years old for her to come!

''It doesn't feel like we're moving.'' Rose held onto her stick as she went to the window. She saw below the sea was slowly moving and the ship had moved away from the docks. ''Hmm, so we are. It didn't always feel so smooth.''

''What didn't?''

Rose raised her hand to dismiss the thought again. ''Doesn't matter, dear.''

* * *

''My third son, Harry, he died at birth. We buried him in Wisconsin where we lived at that time. He was buried beside his grandparents on his father's side.'' Rose bowed her head. ''Samuel, he was buried in Santa Monica. Teddy, too. Jack was buried with them. ''

The pastor nodded his head. ''I'm sorry to hear you lost so many children, Mrs. Dawson.''

Rose clutched the tea in her hand, swirling about the teabag. ''When one is so old, you expect this to happen.'' She glanced at the pictures next to the table. ''My Eadie passed on just last year, too. She was just forty – nine years old. But, she enjoyed a drink and a smoke, too.'' Rose chuckled. ''Ones indulgences can be also a killer.''

''Quite.'' The pastor nodded, taking a sip of his tea.

''Care for a biscuit?'' Rose handed him a tray of cookies.

''Perhaps after these discussions, Mrs. Dawson.''

''Very well.'' Her aging hands shook as she drank her tea. ''Eadie was buried with her husband, Bobby out in New York City. I go to visit her grave a couple of times a year.''

''I see.''

''So, I guess that comes to this question?'' Rose placed her tea down on the table and glanced at the papers before her. Most were signed, others still had to be read. ''Lilly Dawson-Thompson will be buried with her father and her brothers in Santa Monica.'' Rose decided as she signed off one last page. ''I discovered that I was carrying her whilst we lived there.'' Rose smiled at the memory. ''So long ago and yet just like yesterday.''

''Time flashes by too fast. One moment we are young and the next we are old.''

''But with age comes wisdom, pastor. Time may be cruel to us, but it is also kind.''

The pastor noticed the flash of youth in Rose Dawson's eyes at that moment in time. Here was a woman who had buried all but one child, a woman who had lost her husband and who had still so much life left in her. She had turned eighty-eight years old.

''God knows how true that is.''

* * *

''What is that ghastly sound?'' Rose cradled her head in her hands.

''That would be Peter's rap song.'' Elizabeth laughed. ''Did someone drink too much sherry last night?''

''Oh, just a touch.'' Rose reached out for the fresh coffee Elizabeth had just made. From outside in the car, her great grandson had come to visit. He was Samuel's grandson and came frequently to visit his elderly relative. ''One didn't know how strong it is. Blasted New Year's Eve.''

Elizabeth served up a plate of eggs and toast for her grandmother and placed it before her. ''Well, this is the 90's.''

''Hey nanny!'' Pete called from the doorway as he fought his way through the fly net. A motorcycle helmet nestled under his arm and he was dressed head to toe in leather. He was a handsome boy, with typical Dawson features; tall and blonde but he had his father's dark eyes.

''Peter, my darling. You grow taller every day.'' He came to Rose and kissed her wrinkled cheek. ''I have to ask just what the racket is you were playing.''

''Just rap music, nanny. I would tell you but after you laughed at my own bands performance I don't think it would interest you.''

Rose chuckled. ''Oh, Peter. Come sit down and tell us about school.''

''I'm through, remember. I am eighteen.''

Rose furrowed her brow. ''Oh, yes, of course! Well, tell me about your plans for this year! I hear 1991 is going to be good!''

Elizabeth laughed. ''Nana, you say that every year.''

''Of, course, dear, it is true. Each year has to top the last.''

Peter set down his helmet on the table.

''Actually, my father and I are going to Australia. We want to travel out there.''

Rose clapped her hands together. ''How wonderful! When did we go there, Lizzy?''

''Summer of '87.'' Elizabeth recalled. ''Bon Jovi were on tour and you wanted to dance with the lead singer but I wouldn't let you.''

Rose creased laughing. ''Oh, of course. That handsome man. If I was your age I would have been dancing at his concert, let me tell you that.''

''Nana, even turning ninety-three that weekend didn't stop you!''

All three fell about laughing. One thing was for sure, there was never a dull moment in the Dawson household.

* * *

CNN played in the background of the kitchen whilst Lizzy fed the three Pomeranian's which her and Nana had managed to rescue over the past three years. She vaguely listened as she pottered about.

''Treasure hunter Brock Lovett is best known for finding Spanish gold insunken galleons in the Caribbean. Now he is using deep submergencetechnology to work two and a half miles down at another famous wreck... theTitanic. He is with us live via satellite from a Russian research ship inthe middle of the Atlantic... hello Brock?''

''Yes, hi, Tracy. You know, Titanic is not just A shipwreck, Titanic is THE shipwreck. It's the Mount Everest of shipwrecks.''

The dogs danced around her feet as she emptied a chicken into three bowls. ''Yes, I will feed you in one moment.''

Inside the glassed-in studio inside the house, Rose worked on her latest work. Her studio was full of ceramics, figurines, folk art, the walls crammed with drawings and paintings... things collected over a lifetime. Liquid red clay covered her hands and she worked calmly.

In the background, the TV chimed on.

''I've planned this expedition for three years, and we're out here recoveringsome amazing things... things that will have enormous historical andeducational value.''

''But it's no secret that education is not your main purpose. You're atreasure hunter. So, what is the treasure you're hunting?''

''I'd rather show you than tell you, and we think we're very close to doing just that.''

Rose wiped her hands on an old rag and grabbed her stick to walk. Her body was shrunken under an African print dress and she steadily found her way to the kitchen where the CNN reporter was still playing in the background.

Her eyes were still as bright and alive as they had been as a young girl as she came to the TV, focusing on the treasure hunter known as Brock Lovett upon the screen.

''Lizzy? Turn that up please, dear.''

Lizzy came to her nana's side, wondering just what interest the report would have. Rose didn't watch television never mind watch the news.

''Your expedition is at the centre of a storm of controversy over salvage rights and even ethics. Many are calling you a grave robber.'' The reporter accused. Brock's face filled the screen once more.

''Nobody called the recovery of the artefacts from King Tut's tomb grave-robbing. I have museum-trained experts here, making sure this stuff is preserved and catalogued properly. Look at this drawing, which was found today...''

The camera panned off Brock and onto a piece of paper; a drawing laid in a tray of water. It focused closer and closer. The picture was of a woman, with eyes so alive and yet so naive. She was naked, aside from a necklace at her throat.

''...a piece of paper that's been underwater for 84 years... and my team are able to preserve it intact. Should this have remained unseen at the bottom of the ocean for eternity, when we can see it and enjoy it now?''

Rose's eyes struggled to focus without her glasses, she shuffled closer to the screen and it was then she was certain. There, on the screen was a drawing done 84 years before of her; by Jack. Her mouth hung open in amazement.

''I'll be Godamned.''


	4. Delicate: 1996

Part 4: 1996

Emotionally drained couldn't even cover the events of the past three days aboard the Keldysh with Brock Lovett and his team. Lizzy Dawson ran his hands through her waist length blonde hair. All she thought of, as she glanced out to the black sea was her grandfather, Jack. He had been out here, with her grandmother. All of these years, they had kept such a secret. They had met on the Titanic. Rose had revealed every single detail to them all over the last few days, reliving the true tragedy of a sinking ship but the most amazing thing had come out of that; her grandparents love.

There was faded music in the background but she didn't hear it, her mind was far too consumed with everything else. When Brock Lovett joined her at the rail, she couldn't help but place her hand atop of his. He handed her a beer and she took it, gratefully. She wasn't one to drink too much but she felt the need for several more after tonight.

''I'm sorry, you didn't find the diamond.'' She raised her eyes to meet his.

He shook his head. ''For three years, I thought of nothing but Titanic.'' He took a swig of his beer. ''I spent thousands out here, for what?''

Lizzy sensed his frustration but, in that moment, she knew it wasn't because he couldn't find the diamond. it was something else which seemed firmly rooted in his stomach. ''Your grandmother is a remarkable woman.''

''I know, that. My grandfather was pretty amazing, too. He passed when I was ten, but, we talk about him all the time as though he is still here.'' She glanced about and, in that moment, she wondered if he really was _here._ The dark ocean was still, just as Rose has described that night had been. It was eerie and she had struggled to even imagine anyone been out here, never mind one thousand five hundred people...

''Perhaps.'' He swigged his beer.

''So, what now?''

He shrugged. ''Home.''

''Where is home?''

He sighed, his frustration evident in each breath. ''I don't know, Lizzy. I spent years out here. We all did. I just-'' He couldn't finish his sentence, for he had no other words. His mind was fully consumed by everything and he was unable to concentrate on anything, it was as though someone had switched off his interest in the diamond. ''I just never got it. I never let what happened get to me, but now I see it so clearly.''

Lizzy glanced out at the sea, goose bumps appearing over her skin. ''Nana never told us either, she came out here for her own reasons. God knows what they were, perhaps she needed to make peace with the past in some way.''

''Honestly, it sounds like she did. I mean, why else would she at 101 years old make this trip?'' Brock smirked and Lizzie remained silent but she knew it was true. Although, her Nana was over a century old, it hadn't stopped her flying in a helicopter. In fact, she had become rather excited.

''So, what happens now?''

His eyes met hers and she got the feeling he was asking her a silent question.

''We go home, right?''

Brock felt the cloud of fog lift right from his head. He had suffered with it for days, weeks even and now they had found nothing, he had felt it take over his body. But as he swigged the last of his beer, he raised his dark eyes to meet Lizzy's. They were so blue, it almost took his breath away in that moment. Sure, at first, he had noticed how attractive she was, he might have not been with a woman in almost ten years but it hadn't stopped him noticing her trim figure, but now, the fog lifted and her stare was magnificent. A crooked grin crossed his face.

''You, know, I haven't taken a woman on a date in so long I wonder if they have changed how to do it, as for anything further than that, never ask me! But, wherever home is? I assume there is no husband waiting for you?''

With a smile, Lizzy shook her head.

''Boyfriend?''

Again, she shook her head. ''No, there is no one. My Mother passed two years ago and I solely care for Nana, I am the only one left.''

Brock nodded. ''Well, in that case, do you have an objection to joining me for coffee when we hit land?''

Lizzy fluttered her lashes. She was thirty-six years of age and despite her lack of interest in guys in recent years, not one had ever made her stomach flutter like a youth, but in that moment, she felt seventeen.

''Sure.''

* * *

''Oh, Nana, I have no idea all of these years how you have kept all of these pictures when we have travelled.'' Lizzy stroked her fingers over a picture of Jack with her own Mother, Helen as a child. Rose was dressed in her long, white nightgown as she settled herself into bed. She had applied her hand cream and face cream and she laid down, resting her aged body. Lizzy came to her, fluffing up some pillows to ensure her grandmother was comfortable before she settled herself on the edge of the bed.

''We took them with us, dear, Lizzy. I like to see my life, my children and those I cherish most, with me.''

Beneath the wrinkled face, Lizzy saw the twinkling eyes of Rose's youth. With tears shining in her own eyes, she blinked them away. ''Why didn't you or grandpops tell us, Nana? Why did you wait until now?''

Rose pressed her gnarled hands to her granddaughter's youthful face. ''Oh, my little Lizzy, it was never time. Now it was. Your grandfather and I were broken after the sinking, we had no money and no clothes. We ran into New York City as blind and naïve as rats but look where we got. We had nothing but love and a determination.''

Lizzy felt the tears come down her face. ''He really loved you, Nana.''

''Yes, and I love him, my Jack. He loved you all, too. His children and the grandkids.''

Lizzy squeezed her grandmothers hand. ''Oh, Nana. We all loved him, too.''

Rose reached out to a picture which she had positioned to face her. It was black and white. Of her and Jack in New York City. She touched the glass, running her hand down her husband's handsome face. Eighty-four years stood between that picture and now and yet she could still hear the squeals of laughter.

''This was the first photograph we ever had taken together. It was at a fair in New York City.'' Jack was so beautifully handsome, and he smiled, right next to her. ''We were living in a garret, poor but so free. We were exhilarated and yet all we had was each other.''

Lizzy took the photograph from Rose and vaguely remembered seeing it someplace as a child. ''How handsome he was, and you, too Nana, just beautiful.''

''Yes, well, time is cruel to one's face. It will age you, wrinkle and take away your mobility but you will never lose your sense of humour, never lose the faith and never stop loving. No matter what happens. Even after my children passed away, even after Jack passed twenty-six years ago.''

Lizzy blinked back tears at her beautiful words. Rose took her youthful hands in hers.

''You know, you have been wonderful to me. You have taken care of me for twenty years.''

''It hasn't been a burden to me, Nana. If that's what you're saying.''

''No, but perhaps it has stopped you from finding yourself.''

Lizzy shook her head, dismissing her Nana's ridiculous notion.

''No, I know myself better because of it.'' She placed the picture back on the cabinet and faced it so that Rose could see it.

''Hmm, perhaps. But I love you, my dear girl and you are a young woman. You need a husband, some children and a life of your own.''

''That will come.''

Rose raised a knowing eyebrow as she nestled herself down to sleep. ''Hmm, sooner than you think.''

Lizzy shook her amused head.

''I am beyond tired, my darling. Too tired for my eyes to remain open any longer. Would you turn out the light and go up on decks to the party? Go dance, be merry and drink beers. Let loose. I would if I was as young as you.''

Lizzy laughed as she went to the door. Inside the bed, her Nana looked so small and frail. It was hard to imagine she had carried six children and lived through God knows how many wars. ''I will have a couple of beers, for you.''

''Good, girl.''

''I love you, rest up. Big day tomorrow.''

''I love you too, goodnight, God bless.''

Lizzy turned out the light and went up to the party. As she laid in the darkness, Rose felt a strange calm overcome her. Her hands found the petite wedding ring which she had worn for over eighty years.

She had done it. She had told _their_ story. She had done all that she could have done. For her family. They had all grown and now it was their time.

Her eyes closed, her hands clasped together. She felt someone touch her hand, a cold touch that soon turned warm. _Jack_. She knowingly smiled. _I'm coming home._

 _The next thing she knew she was flying, soaring and her stomach had that kind of excitement you had as a young girl. It was light, so bright and kept growing brighter and brighter. She seemed to follow the moonlight type beam and suddenly, she was plunged into water. Deeper, deeper, deeper..._

 _The wreck of the Titanic loomed, she travelled over the forecastle deck. Inside, echoes of music strained, like a waltz. The rust of the corridors had faded and it became beautiful, light and airy, once more. She_ _emerged onto the grand staircase, lit by glowing chandelier. The music was vibrant now, and the room was populated by men in tie and tails, women in gowns. Beautiful..._

 _At the top of the staircase, she saw him. Jack. He had waited._

 _She travelled towards him and suddenly, he turned. He was no longer old and decrepit. She was no longer aged or ached. She was a girl of seventeen and he was a boy of twenty, just as they once had been._

 _He held out his hand to her and before them, she noticed the Titanic clock._ _ **Make it count, meet me at the clock.**_ _He had written to her, before he passed._

 _Her hand was on his, he pulled her to him. His wife, his love, the mother of his children and the woman he had lived his live with._

 _''You're here.'' He whispered to her._

 _''You waited.''_

 _''Always.''_

 _He leant forward and she closed her eyes as his lips found hers for the first time in so long. A loud applause erupted around them but they weren't heard for all that mattered was the other. She was home._


	5. Delicate: Epilogue - Feb 1997

**Epilogue: February 1997**

Rose had passed away a year ago to the day.

Dressed in black, Elizabeth Dawson-Lovett held an umbrella atop her head. The rain had poured dreadfully in recent weeks but it never stopped her visiting. She breathed out and a cloud of fog emerged.

Laid before her were the graves of her family; Samuel, Jack, Teddy, Lilly, her own Mother and now her grandmother. She had spent time in Wisconsin after her grandmother's funeral to visit the graves of her great grandparents and of the baby uncle who she had never met and then onto New York where her Aunt Eadie had been buried but now, as she stood in Woodlawn Cemetry, Santa Monica, surrounded by plots of the Dawson children, the grandchildren and now Rose, she felt the love present.

''I brought you all a rose.'' She spoke to the ground, as though it would have ears. ''I hope you appreciate how expensive they are nowadays.'' She smiled through her tears. ''Of course, you would grandpops.''

She breathed through her tears, feeling the loss in the pit of her stomach.

''Well, Nana, you were right, weren't you?'' She grasped onto the umbrella hard as she tried to fight back the sobs. ''I did need to find a man and to have babies, but of course, you knew that didn't you. That night I put you in bed, you knew that it would be the last time, that grandpops was waiting and you knew that Brock would ask me to marry him, didn't you?''

She felt her hands shake. After Rose's death, Brock had accompanied her back to Ojai where she had been living with her Nana and he hadn't left. They had married after three months.

''You would like him, too. You all would.'' She wiped her face. ''I just hope you can all see how happy I am, even though my life is so empty without you.'' Her voice cracked and her breathing became shallow. ''I love him so much and we're going to have a baby.'' Her hand fell to her swollen stomach. ''In three months I will be a mother and my life will just be starting, just as you said, Nana.''

A flash of thunder in the distance silenced Lizzy and she gasped. She never liked a storm.

''But, we are moving to New York, too. Brock has good job opportunity there and we want to raise our kids in the City, at least for now. He talks about three or four kids and we both know we're not getting younger. I want that, too. I want a family. A husband and a life, just half as filled with love as yours was.''

The thunder erupted once more and a flash of lightening scared her witless. She knew that she had to go.

''I don't know when I will be back down here.'' She whispered to no body. ''But I hope you will forgive that I can't visit much anymore but I carry you in my heart, and of course Nana's pictures.''

She turned, feeling her unborn child kick and move about within. Clutching the umbrella, the lightening flashed and this time it was right above them. She gasped and right there, before her, she could have sworn she saw the smiling faces of Jack, of Rose, of her Mother. All young, happy and-

''Lizzy!'' She heard her name called. It was Brock. He came running through the thick trees of the cemetery and met her at the bottom of her grandmother's grave.

''Brock?''

His arms came around her as he took the umbrella from her. ''Come along, you'll catch your death out here.''

She nodded. Her eyes finding her husbands in the dim early evening light. He sensed the hesitation, she didn't want to leave this place, or she was torn at least.

''Are you sure this is what you want?''

 _Go, silly girl, go live your life!_ She heard her grandmother's shrill voice called out to her. She broke into a silly giggle, Brock narrowed his eyes at her outburst of laughter.

''Lizzy?''

''Yes. I am more than ready. Take me home, let us go and live our lives.''

So, he did.

 **Thank you all very much for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story and my take on their lives together and that this ending wraps it all up well. :)**


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